that feeling
by lolomusic07
Summary: What do you think happens when the person you like ends up liking you back...in the most awkward period of your life?
1. Chapter 1: In Secret

I stepped into the gates of my prison. It's where I'll be for a long time, at least until I turn 18. Where I'm forced to be confined in a minimal room with goons that pick their noses and shoot rubber bands across the room at the worst times. Where nobody, no matter how far away or close they live to this place, can rescue me from this terrible fate.

School.

My keychains jingled noisily behind me as I walked towards the lunch tables. Normally, I sit alone in the morning, because my only other friend here at school, Cassidy, is normally here at the bell. She isn't the most responsible person I know, but she makes do.

My phone pinged with a message from my mom. _You forgot your lunchbox on the counter._

Great. An even better way to start off my wonderful day.

I pulled my hood over my head. Call me emo, I dare you. I have long dark hair that hangs in front of my face, and the only hoodie I'll ever wear out of my closet is a worn out maroon sweater I got from a discount store a few months ago. On the back, it has a wrinkly iron-on picture of a Chinese dragon.

A lot of people think I'm a boy because they don't see my hair, and normally stay away from me, which I'm perfectly fine with. I hate socializing with people I don't know, anyways. If they won't talk to me, I won't talk to them.

Simple cause and effect.

My phone pinged again from another message, this time from a different friend. It was Jackson, a boy from fencing.

_Who's up for tj? _it read.

I smiled to myself. I texted back, _I'm in if you're in. :P_

At our fencing center, we have a tradition: to go to a small taco shop called TJ Tacos after practice on Fridays. Nothing fancy, just a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves free radishes and limes with cilantro and onion, if you ask in Spanish. It's the most authentic Mexican taco shop in town.

When we go, we're the loudest ones there. Occasionally, there's rap battles or tickle fights. Often, we play games like "What Are the Odds" or "Truth or Dare". We laugh way too loud, sing too much, and make a big mess, but we love it anyway, even if our parents don't. (Once, we spilled a Coke on the booth cushions. The stain is still there today.)

Fencing is the one place that I feel I belong. I know nearly everyone there, maybe a little too well. We're a small place, sure, but it's more than enough for me.

Of course, just as pleasant thoughts were clouding my head, the stupid bell rang. Everyone around me began chattering loudly as they hollered a farewell to their friends before dashing off to their respective classrooms. Cassidy, as usual, was nowhere in sight. I stood up from the table and was about to go to my first class when I saw a notification from Jackson.

_Guess that makes two of us going, then._

I suddenly felt a strange leap in my stomach. I pushed it down, trying to smother what I thought was happening. If what I thought was starting to happen, this was going to be a real rollercoaster ride.

_Oh, God, no. _

_I can't develop feelings for him._


	2. Chapter 2: BFF

I dragged through the school day, as usual. The clock hands seemed to move a millimeter an hour during math class. The concept of algebraic equations just didn't agree with what my small brain could handle. My tablemate kept tapping their pencil on the desk, which really bothered me, but I was too shy to ask him to stop. Science wasn't much better, either. The guinea pig escaped from its cage and managed to chew a hole through our teacher's state guidelines book, so our class was delayed by over half an hour while my science teacher was freaking out over the bite marks in the Ecosystems unit.

None of this was really my forte. I can't focus in class very well for some reason. If the topic is too boring, it isn't worth my time, according to my brain. I tend to zone out a lot if the teacher begins ranting about one topic for too long, and even simple algebra is overwhelmingly confusing for me, while all of my other classmates are on the advanced part of the worksheet.

When the bell for lunch rang, I felt like shrieking for joy. Finally, class was over and I didn't have to sit for one more second in this uncomfortable, plasticy chair. I leapt out of my seat and speedwalked out of the door, eager to get out of that space.

I've heard some pretty nasty words being said here, because obviously, middle schoolers are dirty-minded and really weird. I avoid using them at all costs because 1) it's against my religion, and 2) they're terrible anyway. What's the point of using them when you have other words to say?

Sometimes, though, I pass by someone in the halls who's probably off their rocker, because they cuss like sailors and nobody cares. For example, a few minutes after I got out of my classroom, an eighth grader ran into me and kept running, yelling, "Watch where you're going, stupid!" in my direction. I heard his friends chuckle and mutter curse words, probably referring to me.

My hood fell off my head, but I didn't care. At least my hair wasn't super messy, anyway, and I kind of like my long hair when it's not in my hood.

I spotted Cassidy waving at me from a few feet away from me, sitting on a bench.

"Hey," she greeted me when I sat down. "How's it hanging?"

"Bad," I admitted. "Today felt really long."

"Really? For me, it was super short." Her eyes squinted at me. "You have a big booger in your nose."

"Oh." I took a tissue from my backpack and blew my nose. Did I mention that Cassidy was brutally honest? I swear, that girl would tell the president that his face looked like a baboon's backside if she thought that was so.

"I dyed the ends of my hair purple," she told me. "My mom said that they looked weird, but I like it. Do you like them?"

"Wow. I can't believe I didn't notice that. But yeah, I like them."

Cassidy beamed. "See, I'm not the only one!"

I have to admit, she's pretty bubbly. I don't mind, though. She does all the talking, and I don't have to talk to anybody I don't know. I think the last time I did that was when I met her in kindergarten.

Back then, I was as innocent as a flower petal. Preschool were my golden years, because all of my friends got along with me, and we always had fun. No homework, or math, or English. Just fun in the sandbox and on the playground, all day, five days a week.

When I entered kindergarten, I was the new girl. My birthplace was Portland, Oregon, and that year, my dad had gotten a job in San Diego, so we packed up our things and shoved them all into a little apartment. Somehow, amidst all of the chaos, my parents decided to send me to school. Five year old me, hopeful but alone, with no unicorns, costumes, or sandboxes to save me this time.

I tried to say a timid "hello" to the kids around me, but they were all either clinging desperately to their mothers and bawling their eyes out or hanging out with their friends that they had in preschool.

The entire day, I didn't say a word to anyone. I looked at the board when asked, went to my spot on the color carpet to line up for recess, and munched on my carrot sticks by myself under the monkey bars, but I hated it. I wanted to go back home, where Abby, Ariana, and Leila were, probably having fun and playing in the sandbox.

Without me.

When it was a quarter 'till three twenty, the time of dismissal, the principal came in, holding a little girl's hand. She was fair-skinned and blond-haired, with bunny barrettes fastened on each pigtail sticking out of her head. She smiled a wide smile that was bigger than her face and waved to all of us.

"Hey, guys," Principal Murphy said. "This is-"

"Cassandra Matthews!" the girl squealed. "I'm Cassandra Matthews!" She jumped up and down, her glittery backpack glistening in the light.

"Yes, this is Cassandra. She's from New York City. Everybody make sure she feels welcome here in this classroom, okay?"

We all nodded obediently, then watched as the principal let her go. Cassandra skipped over to join us, her smile as if we had just given her the best Christmas present ever. "Hello, I'm Cassandra Matthews!"

She didn't bother to ask for a spot on the color carpet; she just squeezed in between me and another classmate. She gave me that huge grin of hers and whispered, "Hi, I'm-"

"Cassandra Matthews." I knew her name by then. "Hi. I'm Ally."

"Ally? I like that name. Ally-tally-mally-sally!" she sang.

I laughed a little. "Yeah, that's my name."

"Hey, do you wanna be best friends?" she asked, offering me her pinkie.

I stared at the pinkie like it was a disease. "Why are you sticking out your pinkie like that?"

"Pinkie swear. Best friends forever and ever and ever," she explained earnestly. "So, do you want to do it?" She glanced around. "You look like you don't have any friends."

Sadly, that was true. But now, I had one.

I took her pinkie and intertwined it with mine. "Pinkie swear," I said.


End file.
